The Bottom Line
by KricketWilliams
Summary: When it came down to Morgan, Garcia knew one thing was always true... and that was the bottom line. Spoiler for "The Company". I don't own a thing.


AN: I just had to write a little addition to this episode... I kind of wondered if something like this could've happened... I hope you like it!

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She'd expected some odd looks from her team when she'd entered the Chicago branch of the FBI, and even some questions, but she didn't care. She'd answer everything, do anything, as long as she could be there... bottom line.

Hotch's scowl was fierce. "Garcia… What are you doing here?"

She winced. If anyone knew how to scowl at someone, it was Aaron Hotchner. He had glaring down to an art form.

"I'm s-sorry, sir," she stammered quickly, putting her purse and the cup she was carrying on the table. "I know I am not authorized to be here, and that it could cause issues."

"Not _could_, Garcia," he said. "It _will _cause issues. I have to be accountable for every man hour for the people on my team, especially anytime there is travel involved."

"I know, sir," she said, and then added, "but I paid for my ticket."

"That doesn't matter—"

"I don't want to be paid. I'm off the clock," she said.

"Garcia..."

An idea jumped into her head and she smiled. "Nobody even needs to know I was ever here. Just, _poof!"_ She waved her bejeweled hands in the air "Now you see her, now you don't."

"Garcia, you had to have credentials bared in order to get up to this floor?" he asked plainly.

She swallowed and nodded and her tummy began to churn. "Yes, sir."

He arched a brow at her. "And there was a log that needed to be signed with badge numbers and time, correct?"

Garcia's quivery stomach fell to her knees. Ugh. The danged sign in logs were paper, too, so she couldn't do some magic and change them. Oh, she messed up...

She hung her head. "Yes, sir."

_Frack!_ she grumbled to herself, thinking some more. _Paper logs. That was from the stone age; why didn't the FBI get with the times? __Never mind…. Government bureaucracy._

Hotch shook his head disappointedly at her. "Garcia, I cannot authorize this. You need to be held accountable, and..."

As Hotch continued, she listened and realized she knew all that and she didn't care. Bottom line, she'd be there anyway, regardless.

"Yes, sir, I know," she interrupted, and then bit her lips to stay quiet. She was in enough trouble as is.

He paused and nodded. "But?"

"But he needs me, sir," she explained, letting her heart and all of the emotions she'd been feeling come to the forefront. "He'd be there for me, and I want to be there for him, and sometimes… " She paused to wipe a wayward tear. "Well, sometimes the phone just doesn't cut it."

Hotch smiled at her, and even though it was just slightly, it made her feel remarkably better. "No, it doesn't."

Garcia's chin quivered and she blinked back tears. "I yelled at him to get his focus back, snapped at him about his ego, and I hung up on him." she said miserably. "I let him think I was disappointed in him."

"He was too close to this case; he'd let the Unsub take control of his thinking," Hotch said. "If I know Morgan, he's grateful to you for helping him refocus, even if he didn't feel that way at the time of the call."

She wasn't sure about that, but she would take it for now.

"I will take all the terrible assignments and punishments and problems with Strauss that happens from this. I'll even pay back the FBI with my paycheck," she said vehemently. "I just need to be there… so... so I can support him."

"Garcia, I am sure he knows that," he said softly.

"And so he knows he knows." That was most important to her. That was bothering her all day, that he wouldn't know for sure, that she had faith in him.

Hotch gave her an inquisitive look. "Knows what?"

Before she could answer, three stately looking women and a little boy stepped out of a conference room. She recognized Sarah, Derek's sister, from when she'd met her years ago, and his cousin Cindy from the photos that had graced her screen. The little boy must've been Cindy's son.

She glanced eagerly at Hotch.

"We'll deal with this later." He glanced down the hall. "Right now, I think someone else needs you."

Penelope beamed. "Thank you, sir!"

Nabbing the coffee she'd purchased for Derek off the table, she took off on her teetering heels down to the conference room she'd seen the Morgan family depart from.

Derek was sitting on the edge of a table, just like he'd perched on the edge of her desk so many times. He looked so strong sitting there, and yet vulnerable and alone. He was a warrior that had done battle and won, and who had beaten his own demons along the way. He resembled a soldier, too, fresh from conflict, protecting that which mattered to him above all. Or maybe he was a knight—her noir knight—brave, strong, and handsome, who was weary and yet would fight again for the ones he loved.

How fortunate she was that she could count herself in with the ones he loved!

Quietly, she stepped in and ran her hand over his broad, muscular shoulder. She trailed her hand forward and handed him the coffee mug. He looked at her, those golden brown eyes she adored glistening with unshed tears.

Yeah… he was all those things… but he was one thing more than anything else to her... what he always was, no matter what.

She sat next to him and nuzzled into her spot on his arm, and murmured what she needed to say so badly…

"There's my hero."

Because he was...and that was the bottom line.

Derek tucked her in closer and kissed the top of her head, and rested until their next battle needed to be won.


End file.
